Eighteen
by Wraithlike
Summary: Leah's struggles through the eighteen years since Renesmee Cullen's birth to her wedding in as many scenes. There are tears, hardships, but triumph too, even when you're the loser. Eventually you can find peace, if you keep everlasting at it. Blackwater.


**Notes below. Years are in bold. Enjoy!**

**One**

Her mother brushes out her glimmering hair, and I see myself, years younger, happier, mom, dad, brother. I see youth and joy in the scene. I see the vampires gathered around like they're all enjoying a particularly interesting floor-show.

It's beautiful. And terrible. Especially since _he's_ already part of the family.

**Two**

'Hey, Leah, you got a sec?'

_Always, for you Jacob. Whatever you ask of me, I give freely. Just ignore the festering hole in my ribcage that used to be a heart._

'Sure.'

'Thanks. I need a girl's opinion … which do you think she'd like better … the pink or the purple?'

His face is innocently perplexed, young … unknowing. He doesn't see that the words to me are poison of the vilest sort. The gloves in his hand, just another token of his devotion are pretty. Pretty like her. Pretty like I'm not. Because she is whole … and perfect for him. Flip sides of one coin.

'The pink.'

_My side is always tails._

'Thanks, Leah,' he says, cheerfully, as he bounces off to pay. Unknowing. As ever. Blissful in ignorance.

**Three**

'Smile!'

Sam clicks the camera, and everyone smiles dutifully. When the camera has flashed, everyone slumps into laughter and chattering.

Emily looks so proud, and glows with happiness. They called the baby Samantha Emmeline. She's beautiful, like her mama. They asked me to be godmother, but I would never do that to the poor child. It's not her fault that she's the ultimate promise of devotion that could be forged between the love of my life and my sister in all but blood, but that wouldn't change any of my feelings.

So, she will remain Kim's godchild, and Paul's. I don't think she'll be another wolf-girl; one genetic oddity is enough for La Push.

Let's try to keep the mutants to a minimum, shall we?

But it's the look which passes between Sam and Emily that sends me over. It's a cross between adoration and awe, and whatever it is sends me into the cold air and out of my fancy dress in a few seconds, pounding across the woods, free, sad, and terrible.

**Four**

Seth's gone. A sweet kid called Cheryl with lively eyes and livelier lips caught him in her net of enchantment, and they're already engaged. She wonders about me, bitter older spinster sister.

_What a freak._

I can see it in her eyes, once she heard the legends for the first time, and met the family. Oh well. Common misconception, sweetheart.

Only maybe not so false anymore.

**Five**

Like a tapestry, the threads draw closer, drawing everyone and everything closer together. It's like a twisted puzzle. I don't know the answer, and I don't think I'm meant to. Life is a mystery, and the answer is just a whole lot more hardship.

I've learned to avoid pain at all costs.

**Six**

Her smile is delicate; like a gift.

'Hi, Jake,' she says, and he swings her up into a big hug. I skulk behind him. No-one notices when I slip away from the sight. It's about to reduce me to the tears I swore I'd never shed for anyone again.

The joy in his face to see her again is too pure, and too special for me to watch. I feel like I'm seeing something I shouldn't.

They're so happy together. It makes me sick.

**Seven**

On my seventh birthday, I fell off a chair and cracked my head open. I had to go to the emergency room, and get stitches. It hurt a lot, I remember thinking as a kid. But Sam kissed me on the cheek, shyly, and it didn't hurt so much. I grew up learning to love from him. A part of my heart will always be with him, whether he likes it, or not.

**Eight**

Jake's fingers fly, as he braids the flowers into a crown to adorn her pretty, auburn head. He delights in her laughers.

Wildflowers. They should have been lilies. Cold. Pale. Regal. Symbolizing death.

They used to call me wildflower. I was young, alive, curious, happy. Wild.

But no unmanageable.

**Nine**

I relax.

'Very good, Leah. Now, Jacqueline,' she begins, turning to another student, but I've already tensed up. I thought I was going to hear his name. I thought I was going to remember. I thought it was going to beat me at last.

It won't.

If I can help it.

**Ten**

I paint a dragon on a dusty sky. His wings are clipped, but still he struggles to fly. He tries, and he tries, but he just can't keep going. Someone on the ground watches him with sad eyes.

Suddenly, it frightens me and I rip it up. I wonder why I didn't draw a fairy, like I meant.

A violent hatred of fairies has invaded me, though.

Fairies tend to have red hair.

**Eleven**

Her voice is singing scales in his head. I'm running patrol, but even then, I can't be free of her.

Her voice drifts, melodic, glorious over her father's piano playing as he runs lazy laps around the house, loathe to be too far from her, and at peace to hear her sultry tones.

I can feel his heart beginning to change, as she grows older, grows up. Not before she's eighteen will she be married, and that's eighteen years, no matter her mental age. I wonder if Jacob will wait.

I don't know. I don't want to know. But the train of thought still floods my mouth with a dire taste, as her voice sings a sad song her heart has never felt.

**Twelve**

Dad's grave was always kept in good condition. Flowers grow on it, and it's a quiet and peaceful place to go when you're feeling overwrought. I've watered it with a lot of tears over the years. Seth is talking quietly to Cheryl beside me, his arm around her, and her arm cradling her belly. He swears that it's a boy. Says he can tell. Says they're going to call it Harry, after Dad.

He's telling her about him. Mom stands beside me, and puts and arm on mine. She doesn't have to say anything to tell me she understands.

**Thirteen**

I cut Samantha's hair for her, and she keeps spinning and telling me how pretty she feels. I try to smile. She looks like Emily, and is chattering away to her little brother Jared too quickly to easily understand.

I wait, and explanation comes. You just have to be patient.

Keep everlasting at it. It'll come.

**Fourteen**

Charlie Swan nods to me, and smiles on the street. I don't hate the man at all. He makes mom happy, and I will never begrudge anyone their happiness.

'Sue says to come over tonight. Surprise party for Seth, if you're up for it,' he says, ever mindful to be courteous. Wouldn't want me going insane and killing people, now, would we?

I smile, but I won't show up. Seth will understand. He always does.

**Fifteen**

She could be a model if she wasn't happy the way she is. She's baking; I can see her through the windows. Jacob would eat dirt if her oven produced it. It hurts, but it's sweet pain. I want him to be happy, even if I can't be.

She smiles, and I am almost broken.

**Sixteen**

Emily squeezes my hand.

'She's so grown up,' she says, and her eyes glisten with tears. I have to agree. Thirteen years, and little Samantha is no longer so little. She looks a little like me, I like to think and Sam and Emily couldn't be happier. I have long ago stopped making life difficult. It's easier this way for everyone.

Even, sometimes, me. I can at last know this is a good thing.

**Seventeen**

Jake. Sam. Love. It's over, now. But at least, I have time.

Time to come to terms with this life I lead. Time to dry my tears, and try to move on. Time. Time to cry. Time to laugh. Time to find something to laugh over.

Time to be happy for them. It's the least I can do.

**Eighteen**

I keep control. For years, I keep control. I stand, silent, calm, at last, and look through the window of the Cullen household. I see the doll-child, the bronze haired beauty that is meant to hold his hand, and sing him lullabies, and listen to his laughter glide down the stairs, just like her mother did, eighteen years before. Her dress is white, shimmering, and enfolds her like a soft breeze. She looks too happy to be real.

His face is alive. It's a lantern, beaming light to all who behold it in his utter joy and jubilation. He is turned towards her, and I can see every muscle is yearning to sweep her from the staircase to be closer to him all the sooner.

I force myself to watch, but as he slides the band onto her finger, I have to turn away.

I will never be free of my memories, or blood-oath to this land. Never, ever, ever. I will always change, because there will always be vampires.

But I can bury me heart in the deep place within me that cried itself out long, long ago, and put my brave face firmly in place when they run out of the doors. I can scatter the rice, and watch Jacob's joy and hers mingle as one, as they grin and wave, bursting with celebration and love.

And as she leaves, in the car, I can meet her gaze, for the first time ever, and find it within myself to smile.

xXx

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed! In a huge hurry, so, farewell!!**


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